Dishes and Apologies
by Collie Parkillo
Summary: Leaving Sakurai over at Aomine's house while they were away had started out as a bad decision on the part of his parents, and had escalated into a complete disaster. Oneshot, Aomine/Sakurai, slight AU.


**Author's Note: ...I'm not even entirely sure where this ship even came from. Well, I couldn't think of anyone I wanted to ship Aomine with, and thus this was born. Why, I don't know either.**

**Disclaimer: Kuroko No Basuke is not mine in the least.**

If there was one thing that terrified Sakurai, it was Aomine Daiki.

He was tall, he yelled a lot, and he liked stealing food from him. What _wasn't _there about this guy to be afraid of?

And Sakurai's parents had had the brilliant idea of having him stay with Aomine while they were away. He had no idea what the reasoning was behind that...he'd overheard something about 'bringing him out of his shell.' Whatever that was supposed to mean. He was perfectly fine in his shell, thank you very much.

"Sakurai, do you know how to cook?" Aomine's voice brought him out of his irritation.

"Yeah, sure, uh..."

"Good. Cook, then. Mom and Dad are out."

In all honesty, leaving Sakurai with Aomine had been a horrible decision on the part of his parents. Aomine's parents were always out doing _something, _Sakurai was beginning to doubt whether they even existed.

"Why?"

"Don't question it," Aomine said gruffly.

Sakurai paled. Whenever Aomine even sounded remotely angry it sent shivers down his spine. "Sorry." He then proceeded to scamper off to the kitchen.

Aomine's kitchen-that sounded weird, the idea of Aomine having a kitchen. Aomine didn't seem like a kitchen type of guy-was fairly small and didn't look like it had been cleaned in three years. It was also about the size of a long broom closet.

Asking Aomine what he wanted to eat was completely out of the question. Asking Aomine _anything _was out of the question. Sakurai began rooting around in the cabinets for anything edible, but the whole kitchen was in such a state of disarray that he couldn't even find anything other than a box of Ritz crackers.

So Sakurai decided to clean up.

After doing a load of dishes, Sakurai thought that for once all the chores his parents made him do were at last coming in handy.

"Sakurai!"

He froze at the sound of Aomine's voice and the plate he was holding clattered to the ground. He swore to himself and tried desperately to keep himself from going into a complete panic. "Y-yeah?"

"How long is this going to take?"

Sakurai bent down to pick up the pieces of the plate and one cut into his hand. He winced. "N-not long at all! I'm close to finishing!"

"Good." That tone of voice Aomine took made Sakurai shiver slightly. And his hand was bleeding. Oh, just great. Just _fabulous. _He abandoned cleaning and just started digging around in the cupboards again. He eventually produced one of those cups of noodles that you just had to boil and then it was all done.

There. That would work.

He poured it all into a pot with hot water, while holding a towel on his still bleeding hand, and hoped that the noodles boiled. But...what if Aomine didn't _want _the noodles?

Well, he would have to deal with it, because Sakurai certainly didn't feel like cooking anything else. He sighed and sat down on the ground, examining the cut on his hand. It wasn't that bad, but a little bit of it was running down his arm. He wrinkled his nose in disgust, it looked like he'd partaken in the Texas Chainsaw Massacre.

Maybe it _was _that bad.

And it was starting to hurt. Sakurai swore to himself again and checked on the ramen. It looked boiled enough.  
There didn't _seem _to be any of the shards of the ruined plate in his path...did there? Unfortunately, Sakurai forgot to consider the nearly microscopic ones and as he got up to go tell Aomine that he'd finished, a seering pain shot through his left foot.

Without thinking, he yelped "Aoooommmiinnnneeeee!" before falling over.

The tall, dark-haired basketball player seemed to be taking his time coming over, because Sakurai lay there on the floor for about three minutes before Aomine finally made his way into the kitchen.

He looked around the kitchen for a few minutes, and then down at Sakurai. Without a word, he grabbed Sakurai and carried him out of the kitchen, dropping him on the couch.

Sakurai was trembling like a kitten who'd recently been dropped in water when Aomine came out with a some band-aids and a washcloth. "What did you even _do?"_

He couldn't help it, his lower lip started trembling. "I broke a plate! P-please don't be angry, I didn't mean it, I'm sorry!"

Aomine didn't say anything and instead began using the washcloth to clean off Sakurai's foot. "That stings!"

"Could you be quiet? I'm trying to clean your damn foot." After he finished, he wrapped a bandaid around it. "You're probably not going to be able to walk very well. Or play, for that matter. Not that that will be that much of a loss."

"Sor-" Sakurai stopped himself in the middle of the word, thinking that it was a bad idea to apologize for something like that.

Aomine took his hand and started examining his palm. "You are definitely not playing. Like I said, not too much of a loss." He then started cleaning the cut with surprising gentleness.

Sakurai couldn't help but think that all of this probably looked oddly romantic. Aomine was holding his hand. Wait, wait a second, Aomine was holding his hand.

Okay, this was definitely getting a little weird.

"Since you don't seem to know how to, I'll make dinner."

Sakurai almost giggled at the image of Aomine cooking, but caught himself. "O-okay. Sorry."

"You apologize so much that I'm not sure what you're even apologizing for anymore."

"Oh. Sor...I mean..."

"Oh, whatever. I give up." Aomine finished with Sakurai's hand and went off to the kitchen. Aomine didn't seem to want to bother with Sakurai, and Sakurai supposed that he preferred that. Then again, he hadn't really known that Aomine had it in him to be almost sweet. Aomine was usually yelling or stealing his food.

Sakurai tried to shift sideways on the couch, and winced, biting down on his lower lip to keep from squealing. Alright, he wasn't going to try to move again. Might as well sleep or something. Aomine's couch was surprisingly comfortable.  
After about ten or so minutes of just lying there and trying to get comfortable, Sakurai felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Sakurai. I made dinner."

Sakurai almost jumped at the feeling of Aomine's hand on his shoulder. "Okay. T-thanks."

Aomine set the food down on the coffee table in front of Sakurai. "Making ramen noodles isn't that difficult, Sakurai."

"S-sorry."

"Don't be."

This uncharacteristic niceness sort of terrified Sakurai, but at the same time, he sort of liked it. It took him a few minutes to realize that Aomine had put his arm around him.

"Uh, I can't eat like this," was all he could think to say.

"I don't care."

And Sakurai supposed that he didn't either.

.

.

.

**what did i just write **


End file.
